


Draw Me to the Light

by Unholy_Author



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Polyship Week, Satya and Sombra have no idea they have a third soulmate but they still love her instantly, Soulmates, Widowmaker and Amelie are very different people, Widowmaker leaving Talon, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix-centric, ratings may change as the fic continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 10:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20134054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unholy_Author/pseuds/Unholy_Author
Summary: For polyship week day two, soulmate au, for the prompt "soulmate au where everything your soulmate writes on your skin shows up on yours, too. A and B are having a conversation and C is just watching...until eventually they pick up a pen and startle both their soulmates





	1. Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a new style exploration, but I like it!
> 
> Edit: This story will continue due to popular demand! If you read this when it was just a one-shot, please consider re-reading the first chapter as some details have been changed or added in light of this turning into a series.

Amélie had not had a soulmate. It was uncommon, most certainly. It was something which had gotten her more than one pitying look from those who learned of it, but it had never bothered her terribly. She married a man she loved who’s soulmate had stopped writing to him at a young age. Killed, he’d said, in a car crash. They were happy. Neither of them minded the other’s blank skin, and that was all they needed. 

Then Talon.

When Widowmaker was born, she felt nothing. That is what she was meant to feel. She killed Amélie’s husband without so much as a blink and then quietly slipped out the window to go join those who had broken the first woman and replaced her with this new imposter. Amélie the soulmate-less was gone, and Widowmaker the soulless was in her place. It was an irony that Widowmaker did not appreciate at the time. 

There were many differences, Widowmaker found, between herself and the woman whose memories she had inside her head. She did not shy from the cold the way the other woman had. She did not seek out sweets. She drank her coffee black and only when necessary. She did not fear spiders. Widowmaker hid none of these changes from those who had made her. After all, they knew her inside and out. What was there to keep from them? There was...one thing. One thing she kept. The writing. 

It had begun the morning after she was born. A good morning wish, scrawled quickly and with an exclamation mark and smiley face on her inner forearm. She stared at it for a long, long time. The black ink on her skin did not make sense to her. What was this? The woman before did not have a soulmate. The message was joined by another perhaps half an hour later, just below the first. It was another wish for a good morning, this time in a smoother and less rushed hand and without the childish additions. Widowmaker hid them. It was not something that came consciously to her. It was an immediate reaction. Jealous. These were her marks. Her shame. Her mystery. 

Widowmaker rolled up her sleeves that night to see the remnants of conversations that must have taken place throughout the day, all in those two distinct hands. Smears of barely-cleared words, messages in several inks, some words she didn’t understand. They were both writing in English, both with fairly good grammar, though it was clear at least one was not a native speaker by the way they asked for what the difference between mug and cup was. The question wrapped halfway around Widowmaker’s wrist. A shackle. Or a hold. She could not tell. Either way, it was hers. 

It was easy, protecting the words. Those who made her were afraid of her. She could practically taste it on the air. They did not question her when she took to wearing exclusively long sleeves. The words most commonly showed on her right forearm, though the sloppy handwriting would come on her left, as well. A few times, the words would be elsewhere. She would watch in the shower as a tiny frowny face formed on her stomach, an arrow pointing to a spot above her navel. “I burned myself here today,” it said. She wondered who wrote them. What they could have done to create a burn in such an odd place. She was careful not to wash the words away. It would not do for the neat handwriting to miss the sloppy one’s message. She told herself this thought was because it was not her place to interfere with whatever she had accidentally been included in. Because that's all this could be. A cosmic accident. In truth, she had come to anticipate the conversations, eavesdropped as they were. She took...what must have been comfort in their existence. She did not care for the writers. Impossible. She could not feel. But she would do anything to keep them from being discovered. The first woman’s husband had been killed. Just to show that those who made Widowmaker could do it. She would not let the same happen to the writers. 

Widowmaker was unsure when it began, the thoughts. The flashes. The sensations. Perhaps it was a joke on her skin that had made her lips curl. Perhaps it was a complaint that made her tsk. Perhaps it was simple curiosity. No matter what it was, it broke something inside her months after her birth. No. Cracked. It cracked something deep that had been placed there by those who had made her. She thought, looking back, that she should have known what that moment was. Yet it eluded her mind. It did not matter. Whatever the moment was, it left its invisible mark on her. She could no longer say that she did not feel. The first emotion she could recall clearly was fear. 

That was when she knew she had to leave. Run. Find them. Whatever it took. Cost. 

It was a mission that allowed her to slip away. She was trusted. Of course she was. She had been created to be ruthless and yet utterly obedient. She hated the self that had been obedient. But it left her unwatched when she did her work. It left her unwatched that day, nearly a year after her birth. She did not kill the one she was meant to. For no reason other than spite, they lived. They did not know that they owed their life to her, but she did. And her makers would know. That is what made her lips curl as she walked away.

It was weeks. Weeks of carefully shedding herself of all connections and ties. All things that could lead them to her. To the writers. She walked silently, constantly moving, until she knew that she was finally safe. As safe as she could be for the moment. But she was not out of their hands. They were still looking. Would be for some time. She did not know how long they would search, but she was too valuable for them to simply let her go. Valuable. Her nose wrinkled. Valuable. She wouldn’t be, for much longer. 

Widowmaker sat on a roof. It was the earliest of the lunch rush. She watched those below her, but only absently. She was truly watching for the words. She could see the handwriting in her mind. She knew the names to which each belonged. She knew of them. And of their lives. She knew them. They did not know her. That could change, now. 

Widowmaker removed the top of the pen that she held in her hand, very carefully writing out a message on her own arm.

“Hello, Satya, Olivia. My name is WM. I require your help.” She watched for what felt an unbearably long time. She, for a brief and terrible moment, thought perhaps this had been a trick of some sort. That her secret words had never been a secret. Been a test. That she had no writers waiting for her reply and that it had all been in her head. Or worse. It had all been a lie.

It was minutes. Very stunned minutes, if the extreme rush of the responses was any indicator.

“WM????” the sloppy writing asked. That was Olivia. Her Olivia. 

“Are you in trouble?” the other asked. Satya. There was no way she was not equally as surprised as her counterpart, but Widowmaker knew her to be a very focused woman. She would not let her shock outweigh the situation at hand.

“I am.” It was simple. It did not feel simple. It felt like weakness, and it burned. 

“Can you tell us where you are?” Satya again. The first few messages were quickly and incompletely wiped away. Replaced with Olivia’s hand.

“Tell us. We’ll get you wherever you are.” She could have loved them, in that moment. 

“Paris, France.”

“I can be there in twelve hours. Will you be alright for that time?” Satya asked. 

“I will.”

“What kind of trouble are you in? Are you in danger?” Olivia asked. That question made her blink. Consider. They would rebreak her if they found her, certainly. She did not know if she would survive it or if they would make another. If she would become the woman who used to be. 

“I am,” she eventually wrote. 

“Well fuck me upside down. Saty, I sent tickets to your email. WM, get to Charles de Gaulle by” the message was written on the other arm as the first ran out of room and it cut off for a few minutes, probably as she looked up a time conversion, Widowmaker realised when the rest came, “midnight your time. You and Satya are coming to Mexico. What an excuse to get together, huh Saty?”

“Indeed. WM, I hope you know that we have many questions for you.” Satya's writing only ever came on the right arm, even when Olivia wrote on the left. Not for the first time Widowmaker wondered why. Widowmaker sighed. Yes. She knew they would have questions. 

“I will do my best to answer. I believe it will be best to answer them when we are together, however.” The messages were erased on both arms.

“I agree,” Olivia wrote. “I want to know what’s going on, too. But we’re glad to know you exist now. If we have any OTHER soulmates that would like to speak up now is the time, people!!!” There were several minutes of nothing, and then Satya’s writing.

“I will be there soon. Be safe. Please write to us when you can to let us know that you’re all right.” It was...odd. Having someone telling her to be safe. It was almost amusing. She was deadly. Dangerous. A threat even to those who made her. A weapon of blood and bone. And she was being told to be safe. It made her feel...what must have been comfort.

“I will.”


	2. Together, For Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really didn't think that so many people would like this story, but dang! Since so many people wanted more, I've decided to turn this into a full series, though updates may be a bit slow because of the smaller audience.

Widowmaker had several hours to spend occupying herself before she was to meet one of her writers. Satya. The three of them kept writing to figure out the details. Widowmaker would need her own ticket in order to check into the airport, but she had never needed an email address before then, and didn’t have one for the ticket to be sent to. Olivia and Satya had both been incredulous when she’d said that she did not have one, but quickly set one up for her. The ticket was sent and Widowmaker made sure she could pull it up on her comm, one she’d kept from Amélie and was in no way attached to Talon. It was safe, supposedly. She doubted that anything was truly safe from her makers.

Her soulmates did not seem keen on the idea of leaving her alone now that she was in their lives, constantly writing on their skin as they all waited through the hours until they met. Her soulmates. What an odd thought. Until that moment, she hadn’t really thought of herself as a part of them. Rather, an intruder who’d stumbled upon their love and had been made a witness through chance. But they were her soulmates. And she was theirs.

Widowmaker wasn’t wearing her Talon uniform, or any of the clothes she’d gotten from them. Instead, she’d used the cards that were still in her name, the other woman’s name, and bought clothes as soon as she got the chance. She wore black pants and a white, loose tank top that made it impossible for her to miss the constant writing from the others. It was Olivia, Widowmaker learned, who would continually wipe away the words to make room for new ones. She learned this as she made her way to the airport on foot in the growing dark, watching the words to help her pass the time, and Satya wrote a very stern message about erasing things before she could read them. 

Widowmaker had thought she’d known them, her writers, from the conversations she eavesdropped. And yes, she’d learned of them, but there was a certain level of familiarity that she was starting to realise one could only have from interacting with them. She’d spent years watching targets, learning their habits. She found that she did not want to be a mere witness to these women.

“I am almost at the airport. I will see you in a few hours.” Widowmaker wrote on her arm. Satya had been on a plane for several hours and she saw most messages quickly due to her lack of distractions, which was good considering that she was the one Widowmaker would be meeting.

“I will be landing forty five minutes before our flight to Mexico takes off.” Satya responded almost instantly. Widowmaker’s lips curled. She found comfort in Satya’s punctuality and her sheer confidence that the world around her would adhere to the schedule she laid out. She wondered if she had ever been on a flight before, if she knew how often they were delayed.

“I’ve got a whole bucket of flan waiting for you guys when you get here!” Olivia wrote. That seemed an odd metric for flan, in Widowmaker’s mind, but she was approaching the airport and didn’t have time to respond.

Checking in wasn’t anything complicated, though her only experience was buried in the memories of the woman before her. Still, she managed. Security was another matter, considering her carry-on was full of nothing but banned items and a single spare outfit. She ended up distracting the guard checking her bag and slid it just on the other side of the metal detector when he was looking at her. It was far easier than it should have been, but far more inconvenient than she’d have liked. She’d gotten too used to having Talon’s resources.

Widowmaker sat in a chair by her gate and ignored the looks that her skin earned her. She stared at the writing, rereading the words to keep her mind occupied as she waited. 

“I have landed. I will be at the gate soon. How will I know you?” Satya wrote. Widowmaker felt something in her chest clench tightly. It was not nervousness, she told herself. That was not an emotion that she could feel. Would allow herself to feel.

“Look for purple. You will know me.”

“Mysterious!” Olivia added with a big heart. Widowmaker found her lips curling once again, though she quickly smoothed her expression when someone sat across from her. Absently, she checked the time. Exactly forty five minutes until their flight was to leave. Widowmaker kept her bag underneath her feet, trying very hard not to watch the time pass as she waited for Satya. Until then, she hadn’t thought of what it would be like to meet the writers. They seemed so separate from her that the idea had genuinely not crossed her mind until she was directly faced with the prospect. She knew more about them than they knew about her, which was absolutely nothing, but she had no idea what they looked like. And they had no idea what she looked like. They had no idea what she’d gone through, what she was like, what she struggled with, and who was hunting her. They didn’t know what they were doing, when they’d agreed to help her. She’d used them like resources, like tools. How could she do that? Just as the thought crossed her mind to leave the airport and never write to them again, a woman sat in the seat next to her. Widowmaker looked to her, deciding whether to tell her to get lost, when she spoke.

“When you said to look for purple, I had assumed you meant your shirt,” she said easily in English. Widowmaker’s eyes did not widen, because she did not feel surprise, but she did pause. The woman was beautiful. Her hair was long and dark, hanging down her back perfectly straight and smooth. Her eyes were gold, an unexpected color that reminded Widowmaker far too much of the shade her own eyes had turned when she had been born of the other woman’s ashes. She wore turquoise pants that hugged her long, slim legs that were only further accentuated by the white heels she wore, which matched her white blouse. Her chic style even extended to her bag, which was a black hardshell rolling suitcase probably only just small enough to be considered a carry-on. 

Widowmaker almost asked her name, just to be sure, until she saw her arm. Her left arm, the one she’d never written on, was a prosthetic. All white and blue and extremely high-tech. Vaguely, she could see a few lines of writing on the arm, though it looked distorted with the lines of the prosthetic and was hard to read. But she knew that horrid handwriting. 

“You didn’t have to come. You may still leave. I understand that I’m not what you most likely had in mind,” she said instead. Satya‘s head tilted a bit, turning in her seat to look at her. 

“I’m already here. Besides, I believe you have promised us both answers,” she said. Widowmaker nodded slightly.

“I did.”

“You said you were in trouble.”

“I did.”

“Will this trouble present itself before our flight is to leave?” Satya asked. She turned her head away, raising a hand delicately and politely to cover a yawn. She’d just spent twelve hours to come see a woman she didn’t know when she would, from what Widowmaker knew of their schedules, have normally already been asleep. She felt a flash of guilt, possibly her first. She didn’t know.

“No, I don’t believe so,” she said gently, eying her. Should she offer to get her coffee? She’d never bothered herself with relationships since her birth. She was made for death, not kindness.

“We’ve already decided to refrain from discussing much until we are all together, so there’s little point to me asking you questions. Would you mind, then, if I took a nap?” Satya asked. 

“No, sleep,” Widowmaker said, though she had no idea why she felt the need to ask permission for such a thing.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice nearly a hum. The sound of it, of her voice laced heavily with an accent and so smooth and honeyed, relaxed Widowmaker. Satya folded her hand in her lap, back perfectly straight, and her chin fell toward her chest as her eyes closed. She didn’t look at all comfortable. But Widowmaker had absolutely no idea what to say or do to make her more comfortable, so she sat in silence and simply watched those around them. Now that Satya was there, leaving to protect her wasn’t an option. She’d seen her, her very distinctive look hard to forget, and she would be in danger if anyone from Talon came to ask questions. No, leaving was no longer an option. She had no idea why she felt this intense need to assure this woman’s safety, but she assumed it had something to do with their soulmate connection. That might be irritating to her, later. But for now she knew the best way to keep them both safe was to be alert. Widowmaker watched the airport around them, trained eyes constantly sweeping the area and keeping track of every single person around them. Though, her eyes lingered on Satya whenever she looked toward the woman next to her.

The call for their flight came late, and just as Widowmaker was trying to decide whether or not she should wake Satya, her soulmate woke and gently stretched her arms. 

“Is that our flight?” she asked. Widowmaker nodded, eyes following the motion of her arms as her flesh and metal fingers laced together for a moment and then separated again. Absently, Widowmaker wondered if her prosthetic was cool to the touch. Wanted to find out. She shook the thought from her mind. 

“Yes, it is. First class.”

“We’ll be in business, so we should be next,” Satya said. Widowmaker raised an eyebrow at that, curious. Satya looked right back at her, tilting her head curiously. “I had thought perhaps it was just discomfort with writing, but you really are a quiet person.” Unsure if that was a question or not, Widowmaker just looked at her for another moment. She did, in that moment, feel discomfort. She wasn’t entirely sure why. But Satya seemed to be willing to move on without an answer or response to her observation, standing and taking up the handle to her bag. Almost as soon as she’d stood, business class was called. Her timing was impeccable, Widowmaker was beginning to realize. 

Widowmaker’s ticket was in the name of “Lillian Vaswani”, a fact that she’d noticed first when checking in but had gone with easily. It was far from the first time that she’d traveled under a false name, after all. However, she thought of the name once more when she noticed that the name on Satya’s boarding pass gave her last name as Vaswani as well. 

“Have a nice flight, ma’ams,” the boarding attendant said with a far too cheerful smile for the late hour. Satya thanked her and breezed past her, Widowmaker following without so much as looking in her direction. Her focus was on the woman in front of her, and the one they were going to meet. What she would say to them, and what they would say in response. She knew that they would most likely react...poorly, depending on what they asked of her. She may need to find another way to run from Talon on her own. Her soulmates may reject her.

Unless she lied. 

Widowmaker’s eyes slid to Satya’s form as they found their seats, putting their carry-ons in the compartments above them. Widowmaker had lied since her birth. It would hardly be unusual for her. However, this somehow felt different to her. The idea of being dishonest with Satya or Olivia made her uneasy. The soulmate connection again, she supposed. This connection might end up being more of an inconvenience than she thought.

“Is everything alright?” Satya asked her, turning to peer at her curiously. Widowmaker nodded.

“I was lost in thought. My apologies.” She never apologized for anything, but she needed this woman to like her and want to help her. Wanted her to like her. Satya seemed to be a woman used to getting her way, a feeling Widowmaker could relate to. However, she also seemed to be completely separated from Widowmaker’s life and her creators, if she didn’t recognize her. She was going to need to decide how much to tell her, what of herself she wanted known. Could bear to have known. 

“Olivia wants to know what your favorite food is,” Satya said as they settled into their seats. Widowmaker blinked, looking down at her arms automatically. There was no new writing. In fact, her arms wear bare of all except the faintest marks. Olivia must have cleaned it all away again. With that thought, she looked to Satya and saw her with a phone in her hands looking right back at Widowmaker. Waiting for an answer. 

“I don’t know,” Widowmaker said honestly. A little too honestly. She sounded bewildered even to her own ears, and Satya arched an eyebrow at her, lips pursing slightly. 

“No matter. I’m sure she has something you like. She cooks when she feel anxiety or concern, I have little doubt that she will have more than enough food for the three of us for several days.”

“I see,” Widowmaker said. “I apologize if I’ve made you feel anxious. It was not my intention when I contacted you.” Satya waved a hand, the gesture somehow graceful when it came from her. 

“Our anxiety is of no concern right now. Whatever sort of trouble you are in, it takes precedent over our feelings of the situation. I…” Satya hesitated, her fingers pausing in the middle of her response to Olivia. “I do think I will ask you one question, before we reach Olivia.”

“I will answer what I can.”

“Have you...ever wanted to speak with us?” Satya asked, her voice lacking just a touch of the quiet confidence that Widowmaker had begun to associate with her. “You waited so long to write, even when we were children you didn’t draw on yourself or respond. Did you ever want to?” Widowmaker glanced around the cabin unconsciously, though nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. She needed to think very carefully about what she said.

“I cannot fully answer this question without elaborating on things I feel Olivia would like to be part of,” Widowmaker began slowly. “However, I have wanted to contact you both for quite some time.”

“Wanted to, but couldn’t,” Satya said, eyes calculating as she looked at her. “You were prevented by the same trouble that made you write to us?” Widowmaker nodded.

“I was.” Satya gave a heavy breath through her nose at that but nodded as well. She seemed to accept the lackluster answer. For now. Widowmaker knew that more questions would come, and she knew that by the time Satya and Olivia had all of their answers they would most likely want nothing to do with her because she was starting to loose the will to lie to them. But still. It was nice, she was starting to realize as she saw Satya smile for the first time in response to doodles that Olivia was drawing on their skin, to be with her soulmates. It felt...like for once she had a place she belonged.


	3. Be Still, Be Mine

Widowmaker did not feel nervous. It was an impossibility. Wiped away with the other woman. Even when that...something inside of her had cracked and allowed emotions where there had been nothing but ice, nervousness was not allowed a place. This made it difficult to identify the feeling that sunk its claws deep into Widowmaker’s chest as they went through the luggage collection for Satya’s other bag. Olivia had been drawing nearly non-stop while they were on the plane and eventually demanded Widowmaker’s phone number to add her contact. Widowmaker didn’t think it was necessary to mention that she didn’t have a phone and did all of her messaging through her comm, so she simply wrote out her comm number on the back of her left hand, watching as it simultaneously scrawled across the back of Satya’s prosthetic. She still couldn’t quite believe that this woman was her soulmate. That Widowmaker was hers. And that she had another. Another who immediately made a groupchat for the three of them and started sending a play-by-play of her going to the airport to pick them up. Apparently traffic was a nightmare and she saw someone driving with a cat in their lap.

Widowmaker took Satya’s carry-on from her when they got her other suitcase, having no idea how Satya had managed them both before her flight to France. Satya thanked her but was distracted by Olivia’s texts. She was excited. It was easy to see, despite the reserved personality that had become clear on the plane as they spoke with one another about insignificant things and preferences simply to pass time. This would be the first time that Olivia and Satya had seen each other in person and Widowmaker felt a touch of relief that even if she didn’t have a place with the two of them she could at least be an excuse for them being together.

“Saty!” a voice called out. Satya’s head shot up and she turned just as a woman broke away from those milling about the luggage carousels. Satya’s face absolutely lit up right before the woman came to a stop in front of her, bouncing on her toes and grinning. Widowmaker had genuinely been afraid she would run into Satya. “Can I touch?” the woman asked.

“You may,” Satya replied, voice somewhere between amusement and anticipation. The woman immediately threw her arms around Satya’s waist and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Widowmaker looked away. 

A few moments later there was motion out of the corner of her eye and she looked back at the pair to see them both looking at her. The third woman still had an arm wrapped around Satya’s waist and was grinning at Widowmaker. Grinning up at her. Satya stood about Widowmaker’s height in her heels while Widowmaker wore simple tennis shoes, but this woman was about a half foot shorter than them both. Despite that, and Widowmaker’s startling appearance, she didn’t seem at all put off by the two of them. Of course, Widowmaker’s first impression of her was that of someone who wasn’t put off by much. She wore a black crop-top that hung off of one of her shoulders and had “ENVY” written on the front in white. She was also wearing high-waisted jean shorts and combat boots. Something about her seemed familiar, as though she’d seen her once in passing or heard her voice in a crowd. But she couldn’t recall having ever been in Mexico before then.

“You must be the mysterious WM, hm?” the woman asked. 

“Olivia,” Widowmaker greeted with a small tilt of her head. If anything, her smile grew wider, but it looked more like a grimace than the excited look she’d worn before. Satya frowned at her as Olivia gently pushed Satya behind her, being sure to stand between the two of them.

“I know your voice, you know. We never met, but I remember your voice. So tell me, what kind of fucked up things did O’Deorain do that let you in on our connection, huh?” At the name, one of Widowmaker’s arms flinched up toward her head before she got herself and forced it to stay still by her side. However, she couldn’t stop her jaw from clenching tightly.

“How do you know me or the doctor?” she asked flatly. She knew it. She knew that there was no way that this could have turned out well. Her eyes darted around the huge room, looking for the agents that would no doubt be closing in on her. For the doctor that would break her again. 

“I’m not talking about it in the open, but I swear to whatever gods you believe in that if you ever come near my soulmate again I will kill you, no matter what freaky shit they did to you. I will destroy you,” Olivia said, face darkening with rage and protectiveness as she glared at Widowmaker. She let out a breath and nodded as she let go of Satya’s bag, prepared to just walk away. However, before she could respond Satya spoke up.

“Olivia!” she exclaimed, stepping between the two of them with a scowl on her face. “Enough of this. I do not know what history is between you two but we _are_ soulmates. There is no technology that can fake such a connection.”

“Saty, you don’t know what Dr. O’De—” Olivia began, looking more than a bit startled by Satya’s sternness.

“We can discuss this at the house,” Satya interrupted. Olivia opened her mouth to argue, probably unsettled by the idea of having Widowmaker anywhere near her house, but Satya gave her such a flat look that she shut her mouth again. “She is our soulmate,” Satya repeated.

“We’ll see about that,” Olivia muttered, eyeing Widowmaker almost venomously as she grabbed Satya’s suitcase. Satya ignored her, instead taking Widowmaker’s hand, making her tense just slightly at the unexpected contact, and staring at Olivia until she sighed and started leading them out into the parking lot. 

“I can go,” Widowmaker whispered to Satya as they followed behind Olivia. Satya didn’t respond to her, just held her hand tighter.

xXx

Olivia’s car was a tiny little hatchback thing with barely enough room for Satya’s bags in the trunk. Widowmaker ended up in the backseat with her carry-on next to her, watching Olivia and Satya mutter to one another in hushed but heated tones. Olivia would occasionally look back at Widowmaker, as though trying to decide something, before she went back to the road. It set Widowmaker’s teeth on edge. Almost as much as Olivia’s apparent knowledge of her. Olivia hadn’t known her on sight, only after hearing her voice, and she apparently had ties to Talon. None of this boded well for Widowmaker.

“You allergic to anything?” Olivia suddenly asked. Widowmaker blinked. Looked up at the rearview mirror only to see Olivia stubbornly staring at the road. There was a long quiet in which Satya didn’t respond and Widowmaker suddenly realized that Olivia had been asking her.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“You. Are you allergic to anything? I made a bunch of food while I was waiting for you guys.”

“Oh. I don’t know,” Widowmaker said. Olivia snorted.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? That’s pretty basic information,” she said with clear incredulity. Satya muttered something under her breath and Olivia huffed. “Fine. We’ll figure it out when we get to my place. If you die you die.” Satya sighed but said nothing, the car falling back into silence.

Widowmaker wondered if her enhanced abilities meant she could jump out of a moving car. She doubted it, but did wonder whether it was worth the risk.

Awkwardness had never much affected Widowmaker, but the near two hours spent in that car was her first experience with wanting to crawl out of her own skin. She didn’t like it. Suddenly it made a lot more sense to her why other people didn’t like being in situations they weren’t comfortable with. 

“Alright, we’re here. You’d better hurry up and get inside, since you’ve apparently got someone after you. Especially if it’s who I think it is,” Olivia said as she unbuckled herself. Widowmaker nodded and stepped outside the car with her carry-on, forcing herself not to look at the other two women as she went for the front door of the house they’d parked in front of. The street was small, Widowmaker couldn’t help but notice. Both literally and figuratively, it was thin enough that if two cars were driving in opposite ways they had to adjust slightly to avoid scratching one another and there were far fewer houses than Widowmaker would have expected, spaced far enough apart to make the neighborhood seem private. The driveway that Olivia had pulled into belonged to a cream single-story house with rounded doors and windows. The front door and shutters were both a deep green that accented the woods details and there were flower boxes underneath all of the windows, each absolutely full of beautiful plants and flowers in peak condition. Even the path to the front door was cute, some sort of cobble of different kinds of stone that made a pretty combination of colors.

It seemed like Olivia lived a perfectly normal life. One that Widowmaker was ruining just by being there. 

Just as she got to the front door and had the thought that it was probably locked, there was a small beep and a green flash from the electric lock beneath the handle.

“Just go in!” Olivia yelled from behind her. Widowmaker just nodded, though she knew Olivia probably wouldn’t see it. She opened the door and then shut it behind her again, just lingering in the entryway without any real understanding of what she should do while the others were still outside. The interior was just as pretty as the outside, almost looking like it had been ripped straight from the inside of a magazine. Really the only thing that didn’t look immaculate was the single trash bag by the front door, like Olivia had set it there to take out and then forgotten about it before she left. Widowmaker paused, looking at it a little more closely. The bag was pretty full, the white plastic pulled thin over the contents and showing the distinct brand of a few of the cans inside. Energy drinks. So, so many energy drinks. What the fuck?

The door opening behind Widowmaker startled her more than it should have and her spine turned to steel as her body instinctively reacted. She had to hold herself incredibly still to keep from whirling and grabbing the first one who walked through. She couldn’t. She absolutely couldn’t. She was fucking them both up already, the absolute last thing she would allow herself to do was accidentally scare or hurt them.

“Ah, fuck, I thought I grabbed that,” Olivia muttered. “What’re you doing standing here like a weirdo? I have a couch, you know.”

“Sorry,” Widowmaker said, stepping aside. Olivia and Satya were both carrying a bag, though the suitcase Satya had seemed very large and Widowmaker took it from her without thought. “Tell me where the dumpster is, I will take the trash.”

“You can’t go outside until we know you weren’t followed,” Olivia said dismissively. “We need to have a discussion, anyway. And my place is small, so someone needs to sleep on the couch unless we plan on sleeping on top of each other.”

“I will,” Widowmaker volunteered. Satya made a slight noise of disagreement.

“You and I will share the guest bed. I will not have one of my soulmates sleep on the couch.” Her tone brokered absolutely no argument, her gaze even and confident, as though she couldn’t imagine Widowmaker even wanting to argue with her.

“Are you certain?” Widowmaker asked. “I’m not sure it would be entirely comfortable for you.”

“Why is that?” Satya asked. Olivia had grabbed the trash bag and opened the door again, on her way out, but even she paused to wait for the answer. 

“I am...very cold,” Widowmaker finally said. She did not mention the strange dreams she had, or how lightly she slept, or her tendency to attack anything that startled her. She couldn’t scare them. 

Satya reached out and took Widowmaker’s hand, rubbing over her knuckles with one of her thumbs and humming to herself.

“So you are. Some tea and a blanket will fix that easily enough. Besides, I have never minded cool things.” Widowmaker had absolutely no idea what to say to that.

Olivia left after giving them brief instructions on where the bedroom they’d be using was and Satya led Widowmaker down the hall, seemingly taking in everything around them. The door to the bedroom was cracked open and Satya only nudged it open to let them both in. Once again, it looked perfect. Like most guest bedrooms it was slightly bare, having only a queen bed with crisp lavender sheets, a nightstand with a lamp and digital alarm clock, and a chest of drawers with a small television on it.

“As I thought,” Satya sighed. Widowmaker blinked, looking at her curiously. Satya noticed the look and a corner of her mouth lifted in an almost unconscious smile. “Olivia is hopeless when it comes to cleaning. She’s sprained her ankle before tripping over her own clutter. She must have cleaned everything when she found out we were coming.”

“She cares about you,” Widowmaker said, lifting the suitcase up onto the bed with ease.

“She loves me,” Satya agreed. “Just as I love her, and we will both love you once we learn about you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Widowmaker said, turning to look at her. Satya stared back at her evenly.

“I’m afraid you will need to specify.”

“You don’t need to pretend that this is okay. She obviously doesn’t like me, yet you keep telling her to let me stay. This situation can’t be ideal for you, yet you say things like that with so much certainty. I don’t have feelings for you to wound, so please stop feeling like you must be cautious about what you say about me.” Satya watched her for a moment before she gave a small, amused smile. 

“I never thought you would say so much at once. Everyone has feelings that are more easily wounded than even they suspect, and you _are_ my soulmate. Do you have no feelings for me? For Olivia? Simply because we are your soulmates?” Widowmaker thought, categorizing each moment she’d had as she looked at the writing on her skin. They were what cracked that thing inside of her. They were what had allowed her to break past the hold that Talon had had on her. They were the only thing that brought her what she imagined was comfort. But…she didn’t have feelings. She wasn’t capable of them.

“I don’t know,” Widowmaker said again. The words tasted stale on her tongue and she could see Satya’s lips flatten just slightly.

“It’s of no concern. We will formulate a plan to keep you safe and we will discuss how to proceed from here, but not before we eat. I have yet to see you eat or sleep and if you refuse to keep yourself on a healthy schedule I will enforce it for you,” she said. Widowmaker’s eyes widened just slightly. Then they heard the front door open again and Olivia called out,

“Hey! Kitchen time! I need to know what to heat up for dinner!” Satya smiled again, that soft one that Widowmaker wasn’t sure she was even conscious of, and tipped her head toward the door.

“It isn’t polite to keep our soulmate waiting.” Widowmaker wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at how long she’d read their words without saying anything, but it made something in her chest sting. 

Feelings more easily wounded than one would suspect. Is this what that meant? No, it couldn’t. 

“After you,” Widowmaker said, setting her own bag on the bed at last and stepping back to let Satya lead the way back out of the room. She imagined that whatever conversation was going to happen would snap Satya out of this optimistic view of Widowmaker she seemed to have. Perhaps then she would stop saying these things that made Widowmaker’s chest tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to leave a comment telling me what you think!
> 
> Edit: Oh my goodness, please check out [this art](https://twitter.com/MacSprinky/status/1221586213917818882) by my darling McSprinkle, who totally unfairly blames me for her Widow feelings lol
> 
> Want more of my work, a continuation of this, or something new? Check me out [on Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/UnholyAuthor)


End file.
